Nightmare
by XI-Am-ObsessedX
Summary: A reccuring nightmare has been denying Alfred his sleep. He refuses to tell anyone because he thinks that he can get over it himself. One day, when Arthur ends up staying over, he discovers his little secret. A little platonic America and England fluff. Rated T for a little swearing but not much.


England knew that something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a while. America had bags under his eyes. He wasn't smiling sincerely, wasn't laughing. He was just going through the motions and claiming that everything was okay. It was concerning. Canada had picked up on it too, but wasn't sure what to do. Usually Alfred told him when something was wrong and he'd console him. He wasn't disclosing anything this time.

Alfred refused to ask for help because he thought it was stupid. It felt like a kid problem, something he'd go cry to Arthur about when he was younger. Not an adult issue. Every time it would happen again he'd tell himself to man up and move on.

"Alfred!" America jumped up upon hearing his name. It was actually the third time Germany had said yelled it. "The World Meeting isn't a preschool and it doesn't have nap time! I expect everyone to remain awake, understood?" Germany, as you know, is a no nonsense kind of guy, and he believed that when you entered the meeting room you left all personal issues at the door, so even though he knew that there was a problem, he didn't consider himself to he in any position to try to fix it. He figured that Alfred should've sorted his shit out on his own time. "Oh, uh, yeah dude. Sorry, didn't have coffee this morning." He half-smiled. Ludwig, unamused, continued to speak.

 _God, how much did I miss?_ He attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He'd have to speak soon and he needed to be as alert as possible.

The day didn't end soon enough. America was just glad to be back at his house. He sprawled out on the couch in his T-shirt and jeans. not bothering to put on his pyjamas. In fact, he still had his glasses on.

Knock knock knock.

"Ugh, who the hell is that?"

Knock knock knock.

"Who is it?" "It's Arthur."

Now, the world meeting was being held in America that month and England was staring in a hotel nearby. However, his rent-a-car decided to die on him on the way back. He was going to call a cab, but why bother? America was five minutes away anyways. So there he was.

"Well come in!" Arthur opened the door and saw America getting up. "Dude, what are you doing here?" he asked, slightly irritated that he had a visitor. "Oh, my bloody car broke down so I came here. I hope that you don't mind." "Yeah, whatever. Guess you can stick around if you want." He didn't really care. It was kind of pointless to send him back out. "Thank you."

Since he was already disturbed, he decided to get changed and everything and go to his actual bed. He was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. Arthur took his place on the couch. Soon enough, Alfred began to dream. It always started out the same, eerie. There was a person whose face he could never remember. He was holding a red container, a gas tank, and with his other hand he held Alfred's bound ones. There were two others in the room. They were disheveled and bloody, but clearly distinguishable. It was Arthur and Matthew. They were all tied up, unlike him who only had his hands constrained. Their eyes were silent pleads for help. They were begging Al to do something. He wanted very badly to, yet he seemingly had little control of his body. The person let go of his hands and threatened to hurt him if he dared to move. Slowly, probably to torture them, he unscrewed the bright yellow cover and doused the two in the pungent liquid. They coughed, it burned their eyes, noses and skin. The person would then strike a match and, you can see where this is going.

And Al would have to just watch them writhe in agony and scream until their lungs were sore. All he could do was cry and apologize, even if it no longer meant anything. England, the guy he looked up to, was helpless. Canada was even harder to watch. His sweet little brother was sobbing, screaming more loudly than he'd ever heard him speak. He couldn't protect him. The whole time he was begging the guy to stop holding the knife to his throat and throw him in already so he wouldn't have to watch the two people he cared about the most suffering. He refused. The whole point of this was to torture. He wanted America to hear their shrill noises and smell the burning flesh.

America was wide awake. It felt so _real_. The smells, the sounds, the pain...he looked at his clock. It was one in the morning.

England had gotten up to use the bathroom around this time and on the way back to the sofa, he heard sobbing coming from America's room. He knocked gently on the door. "Alfred?" No response. He let himself in. Just as he thought, Alfed was crying into his hands. Paternal instincts kicking in, he ran over and wrapped his arms around the younger nation. "Hey, don't cry now...what's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" Al choked out, "Y-yeah..." He'd get to what happened after. "This isn't the first time recently, is it?" He looked at Arthur with puffy blue eyes, saying nothing. He used his thumb to gently wipe some the tears away and sighed. "Come on, tell me," he coaxed while petting his head. "N-no...but it's only a little temporary insomnia, it'll pass." "Why didn't you say something? There are more difficult issues to fix than this." "'Cause it's stupid. I'm a grown-ass man crying over a little bad dream." "You are belittling yourself. Do you want to tell me about it?" "If you'll hear it. Someone sets you and Mattie on fire and forces me to watch it...I can never do anything..." Some fresh tears bubbled up. "Dreams are only manifestations of your fears and desires. You are afraid of something happening to us. That's actually really sweet. I promise, though, that I won't be going anywhere anytime soon. And nations come back eventually." "I guess so..." "You know what? I'll stay here with you, so you won't have to worry." "I-if you don't mind..."

He lied down and watched Alfred do the same, pulling up the covers. "Goodnight, love." "...hey, do you remember that song you used to put me to sleep when I was younger?" "Of course I do," he replied with a smile, fond of the memories, "it was one of the only things I could use to get you to calm down." "Yeah...could you sing it for me like you used to?" "Sure." Arthur's soft, sweet voice filled the room, singing words that the two of them associated with better days. It was You Are My Sunshine, Alfred's favourite song. He'd never told him, but he loved Arthur's singing voice. Before he knew it, he was asleep with a smile on his face. "Goodnight," Arthur repeated. For the first time in quite a while, Alfred rested peacefully.


End file.
